Idea Dumpster
by Darkford
Summary: Loads of random stories that might become something someday. Contact me if you want to use an idea, and please Read and Review!
1. Miraculously Foxy

AN: This is where I'm going to idea-dump, so please ignore the fact that these chapters do not work together whatsoever. They will transform into their own stories at some point, but for now, they will remain here.

(World: Miraculous Ladybug)

Delilah took a step back and nodded to herself when she saw the design.

The costume. She'd worked on it for months, ever since she'd decided to use her skills and slight kleptomania for good, and it was finally done. Dark orange in colour, the suit was skin tight and had a motif she liked in particular; Fox. The suit was lightly furred around the back and the mask was a simple thing that went over the eyes, with holes for sight, and the cape was like a kaleidoscope of the sunset. It had an aura to it that she liked, and so she approved it and took it off the hook proudly.

"Perfect," she murmured, grinning from ear to ear. Looking outside the window, she smiled to herself and pulled it on. A few minutes later, she was outside, running along the rooftops of Paris.

It had taken ages of practice to refine the art of roof-hopping, but a slightly weaker her had practiced almost obsessively, if only to get the thrill it provided. Now, though, she wasn't afraid of herself - and she was no longer afraid of anything. She wanted the world to know that.

Hopping down into an alley, she kicked off of the wall and started bouncing her way back up, before landing on the roof again. Stretching her lithe body, she grabbed the weapon she'd stowed under her costume's cape and grinned manically.

Her crossbow gun wasn't very interesting in appearance, but it functioned as well as it should. She aimed at the side of a tall building nearby and let it fly, hearing a grating chink sound before being sent flying through the air. She held back a shriek of glee as she gripped the wall and looked out on nighttime Paris.

Just then, she focused on a speedy set of figures below, far faster than even the cars. Blinking, she started sliding down the building to get a closer look. With a start, she realized that they were none other than the resident superheroes, Chat Noir and Ladybug. The red blur was undeniably familiar, and the black blur next to it only solidified her suspicions.

She grinned.

 _What better time for thrill and excitement?_

With a prodigious leap, she caught herself with her crossbow and followed behind the two, slinking into the shadows and making sure to stay out of the way just enough that she could still watch the action.

It was awe-inspiring, even from a distance. She wondered if Chat Noir and Ladybug knew how awesome they looked. Was it deliberate, or was it natural? She hoped the former - maybe she could even rope them into teaching her a few tricks with her crossbow.

This Akuma, as they were frequently called, was a seemingly older one, but it was giving Ladybug and Chat Noir difficulty. It was blazingly fast, and unusually strong, and seemed to be wearing a boxer's outfit. She smirked at each move he made, mentally imagining how easy it would be to kick his butt, even though she knew he probably had some sort of secret.

Indeed he did. Trapping Ladybug was a surprise - and as he held her in a hold that she couldn't escape due to his sheer size, Delilah blinked in surprise as she found herself watching Chat Noir pleading for her to be let go.

"Give me the Miraculous, and you will be free," He hissed, a smirk on his face. Reluctantly, and ignoring the loud protests from Ladybug, Chat Noir began to walk forward.

 _I've heard of this, doesn't he have a blinding crush on Ladybug? Oh, damn, this just got serious. And what the heck is a Miraculous?_

 _Ooooh. Must be a superpower thingy. Which is probably why Ladybug is panicking like crazy._

She swallowed her pride. If anyone needed a hero, it was them, and she was right there. In disguise.

"Now or never," she muttered, gulping deeply. With a deep push from her legs she pounced forward and blinded him with her cape, swiping it over his eyes and smirking at his yelp of surprise. She snapped to the side and used the remaining force to grip his wrists like she meant it, and he had no choice but to release Ladybug, who was instantly at Chat Noir's side.

"Who-?" Chat Noir began, but Ladybug shushed him, twirling her weapon - a yoyo - with a menacing glare.

Delilah hopped over to stand to one side, and as he turned, she let her Crossbow fly, striking him in the face, and he yowled angrily.

There was a faint call of 'Lucky Charm!' before something whizzed through the air, hit multiple walls, and konked the akumatized person on the head, ripping their headband.

A small black butterfly flew out, and Ladybug swung her weapon at it, before pushing something on her yoyo and letting the butterfly - now white as fallen snow - go free.

"Who are you?" Ladybug asked bluntly.

"Which me?" Delilah replied cockily. "Real life civilian me, or the me with the awesome life?"

"You as you are now," Ladybug told her calmly.

"Then, I have no freaking idea, but whoever I am is pretty awesome!" Delilah replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Gee, today was fun!"

Ladybug paused, about to say something, but it seemed to catch on her tongue. "Uh, thanks?" She tried.

"No problem, awesome Pawsome." She winked, and saw Chat Noir's face light up. "Anyways, catch you later, Bugsy! You too, Kit-cat!" With a wicked grin she walked away, imagining the looks on their faces with a cackle.

"Wait!" Ladybug called, making her stop her heroic sunrise walk. "Who's your Kwami?"

Delilah smirked. _So they call the Miraculous Kwami..._

"Not telling!" She teased, just to be annoying. She ran off before Ladybug could protest, and ran back home hurriedly.

* * *

Delilah considered her options as she walked from school that day. A Kwami, the whatever-it-is that gave Ladybug and Chat Noir their powers... she wanted one, even if only to say that if she wanted to, she could take one. It would be thrilling, hunting down and taking something barely anyone knew about.

Also, she kind of wanted to know a bit about how _she_ could be that cool. She wanted superpowers as well, even if she was already over the superheroes thing.

With a careful glance around, she took her phone out and began to surf the web. She finally found an interesting blog - called the 'Ladyblog' - and was ever so gleeful when she found info on everything there was to know. She decided, on the spur of the moment, to go superhero-hunting. It would be fun, even if she wouldn't-

She stopped, looking up at the bakery and the two familiar faces. She quickly checked the images of the superhero pair, then back to the black-haired girl with obvious Chinese heritage and the blonde, supermodel-grade boy who was currently accepting sweets from her.

"Well, that was easy," she muttered, putting away her phone. Just as easily, she glanced about and decided to tail the boy - he seemed less sharp.

"Time for a little fun," she murmured, grinning.

* * *

As she swung into the window of the Agreste manor, she took a moment to take in the sheer extravagance of every room. Before her was an incredible paining of a woman wearing a gold dress, and she held back giggles as she considered how obvious it was that a safe was there.

Quickly snapping forth, she let her hands fly over the keys of the safe, which she had gotten to rather easily, before smirking at the quiet click and opening it.

"Books," she shrugged, flipping to the first page, upon which was the name, 'Master Fu'.

 _Huh, guess since this book says 'Miraculouses of the ages' on the cover he must know something. Right, better go before dawn, at least now I have a lead on to where the Miraculous may be hiding._

With a smile at her good work, she left, leaving no indication of having ever been there.

* * *

"It must be this guy," she reasoned, looking in on him. It had to be in that old music-box-esque thing, since everything else was suitably modern. The night had brought him to sleep, and she crept in without much trouble, deciding the window was faster. With quiet steps she removed the curious matchbox from the age-old music player and felt around the box for answers.

As her hands messed with the dragon's eyes, they lit up, and she took a cautionary step back. She watched as it opened up to a sophisticated keypad, and her inner kleptomaniac screamed with glee, forcing her to run her fingers over the numbers in seconds, the lock undoing itself in such a hurry she thought her inner steal-everything would go crazy.

It opened up to a collection of jewelry, each set in its own compartment. Her heart fluttered when she saw where Ladybug's and Chat Noir's must have rested until not long ago, and looked at the remaining ones eagerly.

Bee? Nah, the brooch would be too obvious.

After checking a few times, she decided that the only one that made sense to take was the Fox necklace. Carefully stowing it away, she returned everything to as it was and leaped back out the window, bidding her victim adieu, until she managed to force herself to return the beautiful pendant.

Well, that was her plan, anyway, but she wasn't planning on it talking to her.

As she stopped on a rooftop, she barely kept her balance as a glow erupted forth from her bag, and she hurriedly placed it down on the ground before backing away.

A small, fox-like... floating... thing, blinked and stared at her for a good few moments.

"You know, every time I awaken again, I swear the craziness gets worse," she grumbled, floating in a casual position. "How'd you get hold of me, then?"

"I helped out Ladybug and Chat Noir and got curious about how their Miraculouses worked." Delilah told the strange creature honestly. "So, I stole that pretty fox necklace hoping I could figure out how it gave them powers, and replicate it."

"Well, you're also one of the smoothest I've met," she said approvingly. "Usually, I have to tell them that maddening kleptomania isn't such a bad thing. They all get it at some point."

"I think you'll quickly learn that I'm mad and loving it," Delilah replied with a smirk. "Want to go back? I didn't realize you were, like, alive and stuff, unfortunately."

"Hey, don't blame you," the creature reasoned. "I'm a Kwami, by the way, since Oldie probably didn't give the introduction speech. Again." She rolled her eyes. "Quick version is? Welcome to superhero-dom. Get ready to beat the living heck out of anything that gets in your way, sister."

"Sounds fun," Delilah told her. "So, what do I have to do for awesome beat-stuff-up powers?"

"Oh, simple," the Kwami told her. "Use the powers for good, feed me my favourite food - that's oranges, by the way - and make sure that your heart always exemplifies the needed qualities, which you are positively radiating right now."

"Way cool!" Delilah celebrated. "Oh, this is gonna be good! Right, does that mean we have an agreement?" She asked.

"Heck yeah! I never get to do my job, this is the first time in centuries I get to let loose, so you betcha!" the Kwami grinned. "Name's Sylla."

"And I'm Delilah, resident phantom thief and to-be superhero, by the sounds of it!" She smiled. "And I think I have some oranges back home too!"

* * *

As she let Sylla explore, Delilah was internally celebrating. Now she had a demigod ish creature watching over her moves, she knew she would be able to do the right thing and help people! It almost sent as much of a thrill through her chest as being the most awesome kleptomaniac to aide in an akuma purification did.

"So many records!" Sylla cried exuberantly from another room, causing Delilah to giggle.

"Feel free to play some rad tunes, Sylla!" Delilah called. "I always like some good music!"

Unfortunately, that sent them into a downward spiral until Delilah had spent until one rocking out with a sprite. Not something she thought she'd be able to put on her resume.

One way or another, her life was looking up for once, and she wasn't going to let it get her down.

* * *

A/N: Wowza! I write stuff!

This was an idea that hit me when I decided to design a character that fully embraces any strangeness she has without a moment's thought. I particularly like Delilah, so please review and tell me what you think of her.

Also, as said above, there's no actual story here; I'm just idea-dumping for later. If you want to help me out and throw a review my way, be my guest! I enjoy reading each and every one. :D

Catcha later folks!


	2. Pokemon Heroes

A/N: This... is a weird idea. Tell me what you think, because I sure as heck don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Mostly 'OMG need more Miraculous Ladybug and more Pokemon'.

* * *

Dellah smiled at the simplicity of her new dress. Her human, a Miss Callie Detrouver, lived in the fanciful city of Lumiose. She trotted out of her personal room to see her Mistress working through a suitcase, stuffing her clothes into it neatly.

She mumbled a question, nuzzling up next to her Mistress, who smiled down at her and rubbed her head. "Geosenge is going to be so much fun," she commented dreamily. "I'm sure it'll be fun, Dellah."

Dellah nodded agreement before trotting off again to search for some fun. With a toss of her head she posed flamboyantly in her new costume, before falling into giggles as she walked through her fancy apartment. With a dainty set of hops, she reached her windowsill and peeked out the window.

Down below, Lumiose's many residents rushed by, barely paying heed to the fancy apartments above. However, as she watched them today, she saw a strange Pokémon look up at her and...

 _was that a wink?_

She shook herself and stepped back. Even if it was a stalker, she'd be out of here and in Geosenge before he got to her. Her Mistress would never let anyone lay a finger on her, after all. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, briefly wondering what was so appealing about a regular Vulpix, before shrugging and trotting off to see if there was anything interesting to do elsewhere in the house.

* * *

Meanwhile, down in an alley nearby, a small Houndour tried his best to keep quiet as he surfed through the garbage can. This one in particular always seemed to have something nice in it, usually fire-type refined Pokémon food. He silently thanked whomever kept a fire-type, wistfully glancing up to where the luckiest of Pokémon lived out their days, and he sighed. As if anything that cool would happen to him.

He eagerly chowed down on a spare burger that had been tossed, savouring the spicy flavour, before gulping it down his throat and dashing off before any of the neighbourhood packs came around. They'd learned that humans didn't let packs go around and attack them for food, but any garbage cans or wandering Pokémon were fair game, and he didn't want to be caught between the two.

As he peeked out into the street, however, he saw a carriage halt at the front of the human residence. With new curiosity he watched a young human girl step out elegantly, her dress reaching to her calves. An excessive sunhat was on her head, and two expensive earrings adorned her ears. He watched carefully as another came out, this one smaller but with similar attire, and a red Pokémon at her feet.

"Whoah," he muttered, blinking. He didn't think a Pokémon was allowed to wear human clothes, or even where she'd get them. She must have been seriously rich. And she didn't look so bad, either. With closer inspection he noticed that she was a Vulpix, and a rather pretty one at that, her six tails well groomed and her eyes glowing with pure excitement and interest in the world around her.

One way or another, that dress looked _really_ good on this girl. He liked her - different from the girls who moved around with the packs or shoved him aside. He blinked as she mounted the carriage with the younger human girl and sat down carefully.

Frowning, he wondered what he should do. If they were on a journey, surely they'd come back, and there would be food with them. It might not be bad to go on a little adventure. With a devilish smirk he sped underneath the carriage and turned to sneak out behind it and crawl between the suitcases. He sat tight as the light around him was taken and the back of the carriage closed, and soon he was on his way.

* * *

She'd noticed something.

Something small - well, at least, as small as her - had rushed beneath the carriage. It seemed to have left already, but she was still wary throughout the journey. Maybe it would be more interesting than she'd thought.

As the moon began to rise, the reached Geosenge, and she hopped off her ride with her Mistress, relaxing herself forcibly in hopes that she wouldn't arouse whatever had followed them here.

"We're staying in that nice little house over there, Dellah," her Mistress told her. "You may explore, but stay in the town square, okay?"

Dellah nodded eagerly, agreeing quickly to the terms. Any freedom she could get was appreciated. Turning tail, she dashed for the monument in the center of Geosenge, wagging her tail as she watched it with heightened curiosity. Shaking her head, she turned around, only to catch sight of what she'd been hoping to see.

She blinked as two unfamiliar figures dashed from the carriage, both letting out surprised yelps as they scattered. She narrowed her eyes and chased after the one that seemed to be going slower, the other one seeming to have equal speed to her.

With a pounce she knocked the slower one over, trampling him and forcing him down.

"Who are you!?" She demanded. It rubbed its head with a red-clawed flipper and crawled away enough to stand up.

"I'm Lombre," he said slowly, his amicable voice relaxing her. "I came here to ask a favour of you, but you went in the carriage. I simply had to follow you."

Vulpix eyed him with suspicion. "What exactly do you want, then?"

"Keep this," he said, offering her one of the most stunning gems she'd ever seen, hanging from a necklace and nestled in a small wire cage twirled to appear like a tree. The gem glowed with an unearthly brightness that awed her, the golden appearance finishing a stunning piece of jewelry.

"Wow," she murmured. "But... why?"

"It's a very powerful artefact, and I need it kept safe," he told her calmly. "Please, take it."

"Promise this isn't some sort of elaborate plan to kidnap me?" She asked.

"Promise," he nodded, giving her another friendly smile, like a Grandfather surrounded by his family. She smiled back, relaxing at last, and allowed him to put it around her neck.

"I must go," he admitted. "I will probably hitch a ride back, so if you find any questions, ask then." and with that he turned around and swam away.

* * *

He slurped the water from the lake gratefully, savouring every taste. His mind was wandering idly around the different things he'd done today, although he mostly thought of the Vulpix he'd seen. Maybe this was why some of the pack alphas sometimes were accompanied by females of similar status - his stomach felt like he'd eaten an unfortunate Butterfree every time he so much as imagined her.

He started when he saw a strange lilypad approaching. Stepping back, he sat down, his tail stiff as he dared himself not to move. Soon enough, a Lombre walked up onto the surface and smiled at him.

"Hey!"

He decided he liked this man. Smiling back, he replied, "Hi!"

"What's your name?" He asked, sitting down.

"Well, I can't quite remember," he admitted. "I was named something like Skullcrusher, but I prefer Dylan myself."

"Dylan it is," Lombre nodded firmly. "And now, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Uh, are you sure?" He replied with a smirk. "You're talking to an alley Houndour here. With 'Skullcrusher' as his middle name."

"I'm sure," the Lombre replied, a sneaky smile dancing on his face as he showed Dylan the two most beautiful objects he'd ever seen.

He'd seen these sorts of things on the lady who was with the pretty Vulpix. He wanted these. Badly. They glittered like the night sky, like little snowflakes in the dark of night. He loved them.

The Lombre chuckled good-naturedly and beckoned Dylan forward with a single flipper. He approached carefully and allowed them to be put on his ears, one for each. He grinned at his reflection eagerly, already liking how cool they looked. He wouldn't let a soul touch these.

"I believe your expression is a yes to my request," Lombre said, chuckling. Dylan was shocked out of his awe as Lombre leaped into the water, spreading droplets everywhere and making Dylan flinch. By the time he opened his eyes, Lombre was gone.


	3. Dragonet

A/N: An original story! :D

Tell me what you think! I kind of just threw this together, so... :P

* * *

The Dragonet was a quiet one with a gentle disposition, not in the slightest something admired in a dragon. The dragonet knew this; and so, he tried to be bad.

This latest escapade had ended in complete boredom.

He had already stormed through the Forest of Dread, feared by even the most fearsome of beasts, without a scratch. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he was just inevitably and undeniably safe, which was why other Dragonets trusted him with their young and spent time telling him of the more dangerous things, because he simply couldn't get them to happen.

That was, until something came into his life. More specifically, someone. And whether that someone was lucky or unlucky was a very good question; but, and let me make this clear, nobody knew, and nobody knows to this day.

* * *

He didn't know how his son did it. Every moment of every day his son managed to screw something new up even worse than the last thing. He didn't dare offer any thought to how his son was lucky; it was likely he could jinx it and make everything worse than it already was.

Another crash down below made him groan as his son cried up to him about... losing a tooth? How on earth did one lose a tooth in a room completely padded by pillows? He shook his head and called for one of the butlers to get his son once more. With a confirmatory nod at his wife, they decided at last that it was time the Prince got someone to protect him.

As he walked up to the thrones he miraculously did _not_ get injured in any way, and bowed to his father. There was a short silence before his wife began to speak.

"It is time," she told him, "you were... helped... with your problem. Danger likes you, it seems, and so we must find someone who can fix this problem."

He hung his head. "Yes, mother."

With a smile, she nodded to a nearby waiter, who held out a scroll before her. "You have many options," she confirmed, "so I wish for you to help us narrow down the options."

The prince walked forwards a few steps, and a few moments later one of the waiters ran forth to catch his fall. He shot the man a winning smile and was shown the scroll, which was held at arm's reach, just in case.

"Hm... bodyguards? Got those, didn't work. Sorcerers? Leave that as a last resort." he went similarly through most of the list until he hit the bottom.

"Dragonet Charm?" He inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"There is a rumour," his father announced, "That in the far east of our borders lives a Dragonet who is completely and utterly safe. People have trusted him with their children before, and they have always been returned without a scratch."

"So you want me to enlist the help of a magical Dragon-human morphing babysitter?" he refuted.

"Yes. You are the prince, so it is a suitable measure to take for your protection," His father disclosed. "Normally we would not trust the Dragonets - far too much magic for our tastes - but this one is known to be amicable and timid. It will not attack us, and so we feel safe asking."

"Fine," He agreed, "but I doubt it will work."

* * *

The Dragonet lifted his head from his sleeping position at the edge of the lake. His ears twitched as he listened closely to the sound of wheels in the distance.

There were calls of 'Dragonet' and 'Safe one' and such, which made him sigh in exasperation. He bet this human group were also looking for blessings, and he'd probably end up with an even bigger horde he didn't care for. Getting up and letting his wings snap open with an ominous crack of wind, he let his purple-scaled tail drag across the ground as he walked towards the sound.

This carriage was much fancier than the ones he'd seen before; mostly made of gold, it was obviously a foreign prince or the like here to see the mystical 'Safety Dragonet'. He roared a gentle greeting, and the carriage stopped, a trio of humans stepping out.

"Sir Dragonet," the elder man greeted, bowing. The Dragonet tilted his head, then shrunk down until he was the same size, his body assuming a bipedal form. He returned the gesture to the surprised man, and doing the same for the lady and the younger boy, the latter of which appeared to be just a year or two younger.

"So you are the Safe One?" He inquired, watching the dragonet with increased curiosity. "Why do they call you that?"

"Because my life is completely and utterly boring," the dragonet replied, Deadpan. "More specifically, this morning I took a run through the Forest of Dread and not a soul touched me. I simply don't get into danger." He shook his head. "I swear fate is playing a game with me."

"Oh, I'm the opposite," the boy replied. "I chipped my tooth on a pillow thismorning."

"Ahem," the king huffed, getting their attention. "About that. We wish for you to take care of our son for a short time. Think of it an experiment, to see if we can reverse the effects of his curse."

"I keep telling you it isn't a curse!" he complained.

"It does not feel like a curse, that is true," The Dragonet admitted, "Although every curse I get close to is lifted, usually. I barely get any practice."

"It seems you already get along," The King urged. "May we leave him here?"

"Of course," The dragonet replied instantly. More slowly, he continued, "I will take him for as long as needed. Are you sure you wish to trust me with him?"

"Of course," The lady, presumably the queen, replied. "We are at our wit's end. Would a week to start be alright?"

There was an agreement made, and the King's son and the Dragonet waved goodbye to the carriage as it went away, looking much less rickety than before.

"I guess I'm here for a bit then," The Prince commented.

"You are," The Dragonet confirmed. "Take my hand and follow me to my cave."

The moment they touched, it was perhaps as if a bond was made; or, as if something they'd had was broken. Either way, _something_ happened, and fate noticed.

Violently.


	4. Wings

A/N: Here's an idea I've played with for a while. A bit of a casual story. Please Read and Review - it means a lot!

* * *

Darren ran, late once again, letting the wind carry him forward towards his work - the simple flower shop at the corner of Green and Hilbert Boulevard was memorable to him, if only because a guy like him wasn't the kind of person you expected to find in a flower shop.

Swinging over the gate that blocked the outside world from the genuine forest growing inside the shop, he raised a hand to wave to a few of the girls winding down for the day and hopped behind the counter.

"Hello," he breathed chirpily to his boss, a petite woman with a powerful disposition.

"About time, Darren," she sighed, but her eyes danced with familiarity and kindness. She knew that, even if he _was_ late every day of the week, he was still one of the hardest-working folk there.

"How's the family?" She asked, a small but well toned hand reaching out to gently lay a finger on the plant that was always sitting near the cashier.

He shrugged and got to his station at the other checkout. "As good as always, if completely ignorant to their dropout son is anything to go by."

She clucked her disappointment with a clicking of the tongue and greeted an early-morning customer, who was soon at the mercy of the overeager shop attendants. "Should have known. You're always welcome here when things get tough, you remember that."

"I will," he agreed. "But I'll be okay, Hannah. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll start my own little flower shop, one just like this one."

"I'll look forward to it," She said honestly, a patient smile on her face. He smiled back with a jovial hum and went to work.

His bliss ended a few hours later. In walked his nightmare; he resisted a wince and instead gave his boss a knowing look and walked off to restock some empty shelves as the shop was assaulted by the well known hair-product scent of Ginger Horvath.

"Oh please, not this early in the morning," He grumbled, glancing at her with a sigh of exhaustion. "Not _her._ "

With a set of steps that were very clearly picked out to make the most noise, her high heels clicking against the wooden floor, she glanced around disdainfully, barely paying any attention at all to the flowers strewn around the shop. With a haughty smirk she called, "Well? Is anyone going to get over here and help me pick some flowers?"

Hesitantly, one of the newer recruits walked up to her, and a few seniors sighed in resignation before returning to work. Ginger proceeded to positively terrorize the poor girl, audible from the back of the building.

"Why do we deal with her again?" he grumbled, sticking a bag of fertilizer on a lower shelf. "Oh right, high-paying customer, right." He sighed and went into the storage room to retrieve more bags of fertilizer.

He took a deep breath and collapsed onto the employee table at the end of the day, prompting several of the employees to giggle lightly.

"I know it was a hard day," Hannah commented from where she was counting the cash, "but at least you'll be getting a bonus today." There was a brief cheer from the collection of employees before they started passing by to get the week's haul.

Darren finally pulled himself together and dragged himself over, thanking her half-heartedly before throwing the pay into his wallet and hopping the fence, dashing off to his favourite place.

It wasn't that Darren didn't like the flower shop; in fact, he loved it. But he also wanted to humour his creative side. He pulled out his sketchbook from his bag and flipped a pencil into his hand. Twirling it idly, he looked around for some inspiration.

He really didn't have a preferred style. His book was filled with everything from photographs to short stories, and he really didn't have any idea what to do with them, but they made him feel better.

Today he decided he'd do some fashion design. He looked up from his paper and glanced about at a few people walking by for inspiration, until he focused on a petite girl across from him.

It was obvious she knew what the word 'style' meant in the modern world. With a quiet smile, he set to work on sketching her, giving particular focus to the details of her clothing. His idle thoughts allowed him to consider her a very pretty girl, although he discarded any hope of ever getting the courage to really know anyone as pretty who wasn't as cruel as Ginger could be occasionally.

When he looked up again, he sighed. The girl had left at some point, he'd probably made her nervous, and he decided to just go off of what he had already. It was unfortunate that he'd focused on her clothing instead of her herself; he had liked the way she looked. He knew it wasn't the best way to judge people, but he had mentally painted her as a nice person.

Just then, a voice above him commented, "You're good, but what's so facinating about my clothes?"

He started and leaped to his feet, turning around on the girl who smiled up at him.

"I... thought that it seemed really stylish." He admitted quietly. "I'm sorry if I was rude or made you nervous, I just liked the way it looked..." He was backing away slowly, but she was keeping pace.

"That's really nice of you to say," she smiled. Her eyes glowed, and in that moment he decided that her clothing was really important to her.

"I've never actually seen it before in stores or anything," he commented, hoping to distract her from the awkward situation. "Where did you get them?"

She glowed like the sun. "The jeans I ordered from France. The shirt and blouse I made myself."

He was floored. "You made them?"

"Yes!" She grinned. "I'm a design student. I want to start making my own line of clothing someday. I'm so glad someone noticed them!" She giggled. "Especially someone like you. You strike me as the type to pay more attention to other things."

It was true, Darren considered with a bit of shock. He was muscular, from working hard every day and from his nightly runs, and he was tall, too. His hair was messy and his clothes thrown together so haphazardly that he probably didn't look anything like someone who cared about clothing.

"I surprise a lot of people," he offered.

"Well then, Mr Surprise," she smirked, "What's your name? I'm Daisy."

"Darren," he replied nervously. "I'd... well, I'd better get going now." He waved and walked off, hearing quiet calls of 'See you later' and other goodbyes until he started running.

He had to remind himself that he couldn't let anyone get closer than that.

His heart raced as he sat, breathing hard, in his apartment. He'd been so close to just blurting out whatever came to mind, and that _scared_ him. He wasn't only scared he might ruin her day and say something rude, like comment on how pretty she was or how much he wanted to hug her; he was scared his secret would get out, and that would be it.

Anxiety was a thing he developed, and as much as it hurt, it helped him; it was anxiety that helped him escape the questions people asked, anxiety that protected him from doing stupid things or saying something impulsively. He couldn't let people know he was the way he was; he wasn't really good at knowing why, but he figured that no matter who he revealed himself to, it would end horribly.

Anxiety became his shield. It didn't matter that his anxiety caused him to drop out of school, or that his anxiety led him to being referred to a flower shop for work. He liked the flower shop, he liked his creations in his book, and that was all he needed.

There was a surge of pain in his back, and with a horrible groan, he got up and bashed himself against the punching bag in his apartment. It wavered and threw itself back, and he threw himself at it again. And again. And again.

Finally, the stress became too much. He was fuming, and he knew very well why. With a wild growl and a curled lip he threw his window open and jumped out.

No normal person would have been able to make the landing safely, but Darren was hardy and strong. He was just too strong to feel it. How did people think he got so muscular? He didn't want to know. He just wanted to get away from the bubbling volcano in his chest.

He grappled his way up a roof and began running. He didn't really care who saw him; it would just be a guy, running on a roof, after all. Not until it got worse.

His back throbbed painfully, and he hissed, putting a bit more jump into his step. He was leaping now, like a muscular, gauche deer that was just trying to get away. With a twinge of effort, he pushed himself off one roof and onto another.

Then it happened. There was the brief slowdown as his mind found a new calm, then snapped back to reality as he was violently pulled apart like fate's plate of shrimp at a diner, and his secret burst from his back with incredible power. They were rigid, held straight, and the wind helped lift him until finally his feet stopped hitting the ground, and he was up and away, into the night.

His wings let go of the tense feeling with a flap or two that shed the blackness it cased itself in. He wistfully remembered a time when flying wasn't necessary before he flipped around and decided to take a short trip over the houses south of his home.

He flapped his way over his small town for at least an hour before he took a break in his usual rest stop; the small alleyway was cut off from building projects of the past, so he had taken to it, considering the only way to get there was by flight or by climbing onto the rooftops of the buildings it surrrounded.

He dropped down and took a deep breath. He would need to fly again soon, stretch his wings, because that is what his body demanded, but he could quickly check himself over and cover some parts of his face. His eyes would have to remain, but considering they were grey in his transformation, people would have a hard time finding him, the real one, the brown-eyed fearful flower shop employee.

He gripped a mirror that lay on the ground in his hands, turning it over a bit before focusing on the reflection. It was obvious that the transformation changed his appearance; the first few times he had panicked so badly that he'd tried to fly high as possible to get away from it all.

His face was around the same shape, although his smile didn't have dimples any more. His skin was lighter in tone, even brighter than his base self, and with a single hand he lifted it and looked at both sides. Each looked to have longer fingers, although he knew it was the fingernails and not the fingers themselves. He sighed and put it down again. He didn't feel like masking himself tonight.

Taking wing again, he kicked off of the brick walls around him and soared up into the sky, a brief moment letting him embrace it without much movement at all, before he dipped down again and swooped down to fly through the streets at incredible speeds. All anyone saw was a blurry figure flash past and swing himself back up into the sky, like an airplane taking off at the speed of sound.

He slowed down as he ascended, and his eyes traced the alleyways of the city with curiosity. Maybe he should practice some swooping down in the unoccupied ones. He did a roll and stretched out his wings again, feeling the wind on the feathers.

He barely had time to flinch as a resounding bang went off and his sight was blinded by red, interrupting his thoughts painfully.

He flapped hard, rising higher, glancing down at the ground with fury in his eyes. He finally focused on a pair of men, probably the same age as him, standing in an alley, one of which held a gun up to the sky still, pointed at him.

Darren didn't dare get closer to the gun, or the pair of men, but took in what he could. Thin, blond, with a lanky build; that was the one that had the gun. The other was equally stereotypical, but his hair was dyed blue at the edges, and he was pointing up at Darren with wide eyes.

Wincing, he swooped away from them, circling a large building in hopes of a balcony or similar to land on. He needed to get rid of the pain in his wings, dislodge the bullet if it was still there, although the blood was already drying and had began to simply drip over his left wing instead of pouring out into the city.

He braced himself as he swooped down towards a balcony that still had the lights on inside. He wasn't quite thinking fully why; he merely wanted some light to see by, so he could find something to tie off his injury with. He let them go painfully stiff at the last moment, and after a brief moment of stinging in his left wing and a floatiness from flying for so long, he crashed, falling backwards onto the ground.

He was half-paralyzed from shock as he tried desperately to turn himself over, but every time he reached forth with his arms his wings screamed in pain. Finally, he gave in, merely staring at the stars had hoping he'd have some way out.

He tensed when he heard a swishing of a door opening, and his eyes travelled to a familiar figure before he closed them and resigned himself to fate.

His dread increased when he heard a quiet gasp, and he merely accepted the pain in his back as she lifted him up, grabbing his arm and swinging it over her shoulder, dragging him inside. He walked with her, allowed her to sit him down, and then he was left alone for a bit.

He thought briefly about what was happening. Daisy, it was Daisy of all girls, was in a room with him. All secrets exposed. It was horrible. He knew his premonition about her had been right; he'd never get to know a nice girl like her. She'd probably send him away to the police the moment he was able to move, if she bothered to do anything at all about the winged beast in her apartment.

He took a moment to appreciate the adorable nature of the decoration. A bit surprisingly, he found that the main colours used were purples and blues, a few whites here and there as well, the wood on the floor being tiled and the walls being plain purple with sets of blue flowers having been painted on. He felt slightly guilty at having expected pink. He glanced at the sets of magazines on the floor, briefly recognizing some of the names and girls on the cover.

His body went stiff as something cold touched his back. He didn't dare move, but apparently his stiffness was noticed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I.. don't know what happened to you but... I want to help."

He nodded slowly, allowing the process to continue. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought, not really. The pain was still there, and it was strong, but there was a lithe hand on his back holding him still. He figured he was squirming uncontrollably, and tried to calm himself down a little, gripping the sofa's material roughly.

It took a while, but the gun wound was cleaned, and the bullet pulled out. His wing was wrapped in white cloth that he felt like snuggling with, and his breathing became regular again. That disaster, at least, was over. He was ready as he could ever be, so there was no point in stressing over it.

"Who are you?" she asked, sitting down to dab some bandages with cleaning alcohols.

He thought carefully for a long time about his answer. He couldn't be honest with her; but at the same time, he didn't feel like lying to her, not after she'd gone to the effort to patch him up. With a drawn-out sigh, he murmured, "I can't tell you."

She seemed a bit downcast, but recomposing herself she replied, "That's okay. I'll be here when you're ready to tell me."

He watched her carefully. There was nothing reserved about it; it was blatantly obvious that he was staring. But with his wings, he didn't care. He would watch her if he felt like watching her, this strange girl who took winged men into her apartment and cured bullet wounds.

She didn't squirm; Instead, she stared right back, eyes flitting from one detail to another. He supposed she was just as curious as he, if not more. Well, he supposed anyone would be - he was some sort of winged beast, after all. It would be about as interesting as a three-headed dog deciding to show up on your doorstep.

"Will you be back?" She asked. He sensed an odd hopefulness in her tone, like a puppy wagging its tail.

He sighed. If she wasn't going to report him... maybe this would be good. Having somewhere to go at night.

"Alright. I'll be back." And with that, he got up and flung the doors open, stretching his white feathers as far as they'd go, until he could feel the wind touching even the tiniest thread of white on each. A deep breath, and he jumped, sailing down into a dive to gain speed, then tilting upwards in a graceful swoop that brought him into the sky once more.

He hoped that this would happen again.

* * *

A/N: This story will become its own story! It will be called Wings, like the chapter. Look forward to it!


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